


For the Ponies

by elistaire



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Birthday, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 01:15:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7412704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elistaire/pseuds/elistaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Methos and Duncan are invited to Amanda's once-a-decade birthday party, and she expects gifts. </p>
<p>But what she does with all those presents is another thing altogether.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Ponies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pat_t](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pat_t/gifts).



> Way back, I promised Pat a birthday fic based on a prompt. And she gave me a doozy: Duncan and Methos birthday stories abound, but there is nary a sight of Joe or Amanda birthday stories. I had to let the hindbrain work on this prompt for quite a bit, but eventually I came up with a short story, and I chose to write about Amanda's birthday. 
> 
> Originally post Nov 1, 2010.

The invitation, when it came, was done in a creamy toffee-colored thick card stock with copper embossing and an easy-to-read scripted font in a glossy black ink. Deceptively simple appearing, Methos could tell that quite a lot of thought had gone into designing it to look so clean, spare, and classy.

"What's that?" Duncan asked from across the room. He was sitting at the kitchen table sipping on a cup of coffee while he perused the newspaper.

"An invitation"' Methos replied, still looking it over. There was an RSVP card and envelope, already pre-stamped.

Duncan smiled good-naturedly. "For what?"

"Amanda's throwing herself a birthday party." Methos held the edge of the invitation as if it might strike out and bite him.

Duncan made an harrumphing noise in the back of his throat and looked back down to his paper. "Has it been ten years already? Well, answer that we're coming."

Methos dug a pen out of the cushions of the couch, where he liked to stash them, and checked the appropriate box. "We'll have to go shopping," he said as he sealed the return envelope.

"Obviously," Duncan said. "Amanda's birthday parties require it."

~~~

Six weeks later, Methos turned an appreciating eye on Duncan's clothing as they dressed for Amanda's birthday party. "You look perfect," he said.

"Not quite," Duncan said as he placed tiger-eye cuff-links. "There. Now, maybe." He smiled at his reflection. From top to toe, he was swathed in a dark mahogany-brown suit and a matching tone crème-colored silk shirt. He wore no tie, keeping the top button of his shirt open for a casual look, and his matched shoes were so well polished that they reflected his image. The overall effect, with Duncan's olive-toned skin and warm brown eyes, made Methos think of rich, dark espresso.

Methos cast a quick eye on himself and was satisfied with his own reflection. He wasn't quite the magazine-cover picture-perfect image that Duncan was, but his own suit of somber moss-green was well pitched. He looked acceptable, but not eye-catching. Which was just how he preferred things.

"You look perfect, too," Duncan said, sliding a hand along Methos' arm and down his side.

Methos tilted his head, slitting his eyes. "Let's just get this over with. So we can enjoy the part where we come home after the party is over."

They collected their gifts, and drove to the banquet hall. Duncan placed a special parking tag on their windshield, giving them permission to park very close, and with a nearby escape route. Methos appreciated Amanda's thoughtfulness in that gesture. He liked to have options.

"I'd ask how she managed to book the Hall, but it'd be a waste of effort," Methos murmured as they walked up the steps. Already he could hear lively music and the incessant burble of people talking and laughing.

"You know Amanda," Duncan replied in a low voice as he smiled and waved at a few attendees he recognized.

The wind picked up and gusted across the area, giving the women's dresses sudden volume, and causing a few shouts of dismay, but the air was still pleasantly warm with late summer residual sunshine. The grand maple trees situated like guardians around the outside of the Hall had barely a touch of color to a few branches here and there, like a promise of harvest-time to come.

They handed over their invitation at the door to a smartly dressed attendant.

"Enjoy yourselves, gentlemen," she said. "The cake cutting will be at eight o'clock."

Methos took a moment after they entered to stand and acquaint himself with the layout. Beside him, he could feel Duncan pause to do the same. He took note of the exits, the windows, the traffic patterns, the obstacles, the number of people, and all the possible weapons that might be available to him within the room. He was relieved to see that he didn't recognize any unknown and unfriendly Immortals, and hoped none would show up later. Amanda gave them a quick look from where she held court, acknowledging their Immortal presence.

"Amanda looks busy. The food's over there," Duncan said, and they headed that way.

The buffet tables were laden with a variety of finger foods and savory delights, with several well-placed tables and chairs offering somewhere to sit and rest, and to eat, out of the main stream of the traffic flow. Half of one entire table was devoted to various cheeses, with at least four blue-veined varieties, and an actual fondue pot that held something enticingly creamy looking. The other half of the table was dedicated to numerous types of dips and pates, ranging from mild to spicy, each with little cards set next to them indicating the ingredients for those with food allergies. Methos counted three different kinds of crab dip alone, before he even started looking over the artichoke, roasted eggplant, and hummus versions. Three well-stocked cutting boards displayed crackers like fanned out playing cards, from the basic saltine and oyster, to the cracked-pepper and multi-grain sort.

"You could eat yourself to death on the dip alone," Methos said.

"Hmph?" Duncan asked, mouth closed, as he munched contentedly on a long, crispy breadstick dusted with poppy seeds.

"Want any shrimp?" Methos asked.

Duncan nodded, and they moved over one table to peruse the incredible offerings of cold cocktail shrimp, hot shrimp wrapped in bacon, shrimp coated in buttery panko breadcrumbs, grilled shrimp layered between pineapple and mango on wooden skewers, and a very fine looking flatbread of shrimp placed on top fanciful endive greens and drizzled with a fragrant green olive oil. Methos felt himself swoon just a little.

"She really outdid herself," Duncan said as he turned his head, looking down the length of the tables. "We haven't even gotten to the table with the bruschetta."

"Or the dumplings," Methos added. He adored dumplings. Even from here he could see that there had to be at least ten different types of dipping sauces. "How did she manage all this?"

Duncan nudged him and jutted his chin. "Look."

Two men were standing over a platter of canapés, surveying the tables with pride and concern.

"Should we have had more meatballs?" one of the men asked the other. "They seem popular." His attention was focused to the area with the warming trays, where six different meatball types were available for plucking out on the end of a toothpick.

"They are so common," the other said with a sigh, "but I suppose we should have."

Methos narrowed his eyes, considering. "Caterers?"

"Friends who are caterers," Duncan amended. "They're owners of the Dario Catering Company."

"Impressive."

After satisfying their hunger, and chatting amiably with others who had come by to survey and sample the feast, they turned to look for Amanda, but she was still surrounded by a bevy of people, all smiling and laughing, sipping their wine and cocktails.

"Want a drink?" Duncan asked.

"Just some seltzer." Methos eyed the crowd and bounced on his toes for just a moment.

Drinks in hand, they circled the room. The other guests were all dressed fashionably, with sturdy silk and wool suits in all manner of hues and complementary suit pocket handkerchiefs, and the women had brought out their most stunning frocks and gowns. Each might have had glass slippers on her feet, especially the fleet-footed ones dancing in the center area that was just in front of the orchestra.

"She knows a lot of people," Duncan remarked with a touch of wonder in his voice.

"Amanda makes friends and enemies with ease and abandon," Methos said. "And she throws a fantastic party."

"That she does. Look, she's free. Let's go."

They hurried over to Amanda. She was dressed in a sleek strapless satiny red gown with a slit halfway up her thigh, revealing glossy black satin material underneath. Her short black hair and her jewel-tone red lipstick were perfect matches for her dress.

"Duncan, Adam!" she cried happily, patting the bench seats in her little boudoir-style area. "I'm so happy you came."

"Amanda," Duncan said, kissing her cheek. Methos followed suit.

She fanned herself a little. "I haven't had a moment's peace," she said. "I'd hoped to do some dancing."

"We can dance later, if you like," Duncan said. "Your party is truly incredible."

"I'll hold you to that," Amanda said, referring to the dancing. "And thank you. It took six months to plan, and I must have used up every favor anyone ever owed me."

Duncan raised an eyebrow at that and she pushed at him playfully. "People do, you know," she said. "Sometimes owe me favors."

"Yes, I know," Duncan said. He pulled out a little box from his inner suit jacket pocket and presented it to her. "Your birthday present."

Methos pulled out his own velvet box. "Happy Birthday," he said. "And many more."

Amanda bounced a little in her seat before taking the proffered boxes. "You two are so sweet." She unwrapped each and looked inside. Duncan's box held a very lovely semi-precious silver watch. Methos' box held a thumb drive.

Disappointment flitted ever-so briefly across her features before she schooled them again and looked happy. "Thank you," she said.

"I think you'll appreciate the content of the thumb drive," Methos said quietly. "Copies of a few journals that mention Rebecca."

Amanda blinked back suddenly bright, watery eyes. "Thank you," she said again, more heartfelt.

"I wanted you to actually keep the watch," Duncan said. He pulled an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to her. "That's for the ponies. From both of us."

Amanda threw her arms around them, pulling them into an intimate little circle. "Oh, I love you both," she said.

"Miss Amanda?" a calm voice broke into the small group. "It's almost eight o'clock. Time for cake."

Amanda dabbed at her eyes with a small red handkerchief. "Thank you, Ella." She turned to Duncan and Methos. "Dancing. Later. You promised," she said, and then was off following Ella to the cakes.

Methos stood up and scanned across the crowd. "Amanda must have a French pastry chef tucked away somewhere in her resume of friends. Those cakes are…big." Three enormous cakes had been wheeled out of the back, all smooth as fondant, and each one covered in an elaborate black and copper-colored peacock, tail-feathers flowing down the sides.

Duncan followed his line of sight and laughed. "Trust Amanda not to do anything small."

~~~

Several weeks after the party, Amanda finally had all her gifts categorized. Duncan's silver watch dangled on her wrist as she drove through the countryside. Methos' present was tucked away for reading later.

Two of the more flattering necklaces and one particularly large-stoned diamond ring were secured in a safety deposit box. The rest of the gifts--all the necklaces, bracelets, earrings, antiques, first-edition books of whatnot, and other assorted high priced commodities--were either sold, or up for auction soon.

It always felt odd to her when she owned things legitimately and could sell them at proper auction houses without having to sneak around in dingy alleys.

She turned her car onto the drive and felt a wash of coolness go through her skin as she moved onto holy ground. She knew from experience that the sight of her car coming up the road would cause two dozen little heads to pop up in the windows, all craning to get a glimpse of her.

She parked and made sure her red scarf and dark glasses were firmly in place. The nuns never asked any questions, but she felt more secure hiding her features a little.

"Amanda, welcome!" It was Sister Mary Katherine. She looked much older than the last time Amanda had come by, more worn down by the duties and responsibilities that she held. "We've been expecting you."

Amanda followed her into the solid little building.

"The office is this way. We've moved things around a little since the last time you were here."

A face peeked around one of the corners and Amanda smiled at the tiny girl, who looked shocked at being this close. "Birthday angel," the little girl whispered, her eyes large, before she scampered away.

Sister Mary Katherine indicated a chair in her small office which was filled with binders and notebooks. She cleared away the bric-a-brac on her desk. "There's always so much to do when you're running an orphanage for girls."

"I can imagine," Amanda said. She pulled the check out of her pocketbook and slid it across the desktop.

Sister Mary Katherine's breath hitched. "You are truly generous. God bless you." She smiled. "They call you the Birthday Angel, you know." She shook her head ruefully. "The idea for pony rides and birthday cake…it seems so superfluous to all the hard work it takes to educate and clothe and feed them. But they do love it."

Amanda leaned forward to fix the nun with a commanding look--she was well aware that the amount of money that she gave to the orphanage covered birthday expenses and left plenty for the true necessities of life.

Amanda could feel the weight of her own life press against her, how far she had come, and that she never could completely outrun her own beginnings. She thought briefly of the journal reading waiting for her on Methos' thumb drive, and of Rebecca and how her life had changed. Like these orphan girls, she had started out life with everything set against her, and through luck and fate, and because Rebecca had spent time, effort, and love on her, Amanda had blossomed. Life was about more than just bare essentials, and even if Amanda could only make a difference in this small way, she wanted these lost little girls to know something grander. Somehow, it was a way to please the young girl that Amanda had been, once upon a time.

"I think they need to feel special, at least once," Amanda told the nun, standing to leave. "That's more important than you realize."

She could see three small girls hiding behind drapes and wall hangings in the corridor as she passed by, each straining to catch a glimpse of her. She paused to slip Duncan's silver watch off her wrist. "Here," she said, extending it over to the girl closest by, who had the most adorable smattering of freckles across her nose, "you keep it. A present from me." She smiled and the girl smiled back at her. "Thank you," she breathed, eyes luminous and hands clutching the unexpected gift.

Then Amanda straightened and headed outside. Duncan could buy her another watch next time.


End file.
